Maggie’s father, who’d been alive for the war and had continued his work as a minister after it, had raised his daughters to believe that a union needed to be sanctioned by God or else it wouldn’t be binding. Connor had agreed to the ceremony because he wanted to make Maggie happy, but their titles of husband and wife were rare outside the city.
Most outlaws referred to their partners as “my woman” or “my man.” Their commitment to each other was usually an unspoken one, unless they needed to send a message. To stake a claim in public and make it clear to everyone around them that one or both of them was untouchable.
Connor had sent a message tonight.
He hadn’t done it intentionally, or even consciously, for that matter. His men messed around in the main room all the time. He didn’t. And by doing it tonight, he’d pretty much held up a sign to everyone at Lennox’s that Hudson was his. That she was important to him. He’d shown them his weakness, and although Lennox was a valuable ally, Connor knew the man wouldn’t hesitate to exploit that weakness and use Hudson against him if it ever came down to it.
Hudson didn’t say a word as she settled behind him for the long ride home. He appreciated her silence, because he sure as shit wasn’t feeling talkative either.
With the moon shrouded by thick clouds tonight, he had no choice but to switch on the headlights, which only added to his agitation by making him feel exposed. But it was either risk an Enforcer patrol spotting the lights, or risk breaking Hudson’s neck on the pitch-black road, and he wasn’t about to endanger her life.
The fact that he was putting her well-being ahead of his own was a fucking mind-boggler. When had he started viewing her as part of the group? He wasn’t sure how that had even happened. All he knew was that keeping her safe mattered to him.
They’d been driving for thirty minutes when the headlights caught a flash of movement on the side of the road.
Connor made out two shadowy figures. Had to be outlaws, because bandits traveled in larger groups and Enforcers wouldn’t be walking. He slowed down instinctively, then cursed himself for it because at the sound of the engine, the dark figures halted in their tracks and began waving their arms in the air. The words stop and please and help carried in the night air, and Connor would’ve kept driving if Hudson hadn’t squeezed his shoulders, her voice urging him to pull over.
Shit. He didn’t need this right now.
“Stay on the bike,” he ordered as he came to a stop. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”
He already had his gun in hand and the safety clicked off as the stragglers stumbled toward the motorcycle. Two males. One in his forties, one in his teens. Both froze at the sight of Connor’s weapon.
“Don’t shoot,” the younger one blurted out. “Please. We need help.”
Connor swept his gaze over them, taking in their dusty clothing, disheveled hair, and the bloodstained rag tied around the teenager’s upper arm.
“What happened?” Hudson asked, her gaze resting on the bloody wound Connor had been scrutinizing.
“Bandits,” the older one croaked. He stepped closer, and the lights illuminated his face, revealing a swollen right eye and a split lip still caked with blood. “They jumped us about ten miles back.”
Connor’s shoulders instantly tensed. “How many of them?”
“At least seven.”
“Nine,” the kid corrected wearily. “I counted.”
Hudson tried to move, but Connor reached down with his free hand and gripped her thigh, an unspoken command to stay put. “Where were you headed?” he asked the outlaws.
“South,” replied the older one. “We’re making our way to the coast, hoping to find a ship that’ll take us to South Colony.” He hesitated. “My son was stabbed during the attack. We need help… supplies… water to clean the wound…” He trailed off when he saw the look on Connor’s face.
“There’s a house about twenty miles west of here,” Connor said curtly. “They’ll have everything you need, give you a place to stay until you’re ready to travel.” He tucked his gun at the small of his back. “Tell Lennox that Connor sent you.”
“But —”
“Good luck.” He ignored Hudson’s shocked squeak and revved the engine. The motorcycle shot forward, leaving the stragglers in its dust.
“What the hell!” Hudson’s voice was muffled by the wind, but he could feel the anger vibrating from her body.
He kept his head low as he sped down the center line of the dark, empty road, but it wasn’t the breakneck speed or the wind slapping his face that he needed to worry about. It was Hudson’s fists batting at his shoulder blades as she yelled for him to pull over. His answering curse was sucked away by a gust of wind, and he slowed down only because Hudson no longer had her arms around him and he was worried she might fly off and crack her skull open on the asphalt.
“Let me off!”
Her incensed shout, accompanied by the sharp slap of her hand, triggered his own anger. “Fucking hell,” he snapped as he steered onto the shoulder.
The moment the bike came to a stop, Hudson dove off it and promptly marched away in the opposite direction.